


Will You Catch Me When I Fall?

by Miranda6216



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 10:42:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miranda6216/pseuds/Miranda6216
Summary: Set 10 months after the events that unfolded in the hospital, this is my own personal take on what happens after. Karen can't move on. Frank can't let go.
Relationships: Frank Castle & Karen Page, Frank Castle/Karen Page
Kudos: 40





	Will You Catch Me When I Fall?

**Author's Note:**

> Just fulfilling my own Kastle needs. Not profiting off this. All grammar mistakes are mine and mine alone.  
> Should I post a second part? Suggestions are welcome! :)

_Karen_ :

Life kept going for Karen after the events that unfolded in the hospital. Life kept flowing, it kept passing her by. Hours crept into days, crept into weeks, into months.

It’s not like she paid attention or even cared. There was work that needed to be done. Articles that needed to be written. Leads to be chased -- followed through.

She buried herself in her work.

Her words.

She kept making the front-page but her tone was no longer empathetic. Instead it was abrasive, curt, a tad accusatory holding the guilty responsible for their shitty choices. It certainly didn’t help. At best it got her angry letters and phone calls from pissed off lawyers threatening with lawsuits. At worst, it got her followed. A target that needed to be eliminated. She couldn’t find it in her to care.

Ellison was worried. Each time he’d pop in to her office after one of her stories was published, he’d look at her with concern. She’d wave him off. At one point, she stopped assuring him she’d be fine because he saw right through her bullshit. He worried even more.

She kept half existing. She kept the wheel in her noggin running.

It kept her from thinking.

It kept her from sleeping properly enough to dream.

Kept her from…

She shook her head, sorted herself out mentally, _not tonight_. She was alone in the office writing. Well, _trying_ to write. She just couldn’t find the adequate words to write her story.

Everything, it seemed, was eluding her.

 _You’ve got to sleep,_ she thought to herself. 

She needed to do plenty of things. Right now, she needed to go home.

She gathered all her paperwork, shut off her computer and left _The Bulletin_.

Karen was tempted to take a personal day, follow Ellison’s advice. But part of her was apprehensive to the idea. Her mind tended to wonder to uncharted territory, mainly to a particular man. A broken individual with a war in his mind and a death wish written in his soul.

“For fucks sake!” she spat.

Throwing her purse haphazardly to the back seat of her car and slamming the door shut. She took a deep breath, trying to reign in her emotions and let the September breeze cool her down. She wiped her unshed tears angrily. She was seething, of course she was.

Karen had decided to throw caution to the wind and do the unthinkable. To hold on, grab on tightly with two hands and not let go. In the madness of it all, she forgot to ask herself, when had her heart become invested in him?

Frank had not. Opting to shut her out in the process, pushing her away, bringing up Matt as if it changed anything.

 _You’re better than this,_ she said to herself.

She sighed looking upwards gazing at the moon. She needed an outlet, a release.She knew home wasn’t an option. It’d never had been but she still toyed with the idea, wondering how it would feel for her dad to agree and tell her to come home.

_It will never be an option, Vermont seized to be home when you left._

She let out another sigh, composed herself, and ran her hands through her hair. She wiped her tired eyes off those unshed tears that had been threatening to fall, for who knows how long, got in her car and drove home.

Once she got to her apartment, she took off her shoes. After locking the door, she threw the keys on the coffee table. She padded to her window and opened it, letting the breeze in. She almost smiled at the relief it brought.

Her attention was drawn to the pot of white flowers perched on the windowsill. She frowned, she was _almost_ positive she had thrown the pot of the same flowers away the second she got home the other day.

Deciding to not overthink it she pushed them off the railing. Almost smiling she heard the sound of the pot shattering on the pavement below. She closed her window and turned on the AC instead. She needed some type of noise to distract her from her thoughts.

_He is gone._

_He doesn’t exist._

_He didn’t pick you._

The last one hurt more than she cared to admit.

 _Fuck it_ , she thought.

She was going to drink tonight, drink herself numb and take that dreaded personal day, Ellison kept suggesting. Tonight she was going to forget about everything. She was choosing to shut off her emotions. 

_Tonight_ , she would _try_ to forget.

She grabbed the bottle of Jack from the freezer and didn’t even bother grabbing a glass. Not like she was going to share or expecting company. The last part made her snort, not like she had nightly visitors.

When had she become cynical?

She walked to her room bottle in hand and took a large drag, she didn’t even flinch as the amber liquid traveled down her throat and settled in her stomach. She turned on the radio adding to the quiet hum of the AC. She took off her blouse followed by her pants. She grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweat pants from her drawer and went to the bathroom. She took another drink from the bottle and got on the shower. She hummed along Radiohead and she felt good. Perhaps, she wouldn’t drink herself to oblivion.

Twenty minutes later she was showered, slightly tipsy and eating leftover pizza.

 _Not too bad, Karen,_ mentally high-fiving herself.

Grabbing her plate she padded to the kitchen, when all of a sudden she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She closed her eyes and stilled her erratic heart beat and grabbed a knife.

 _Oh no,_ not _tonight._

She walked back slowly to the small hallway, the grip on her knife tightening. She walked to her room, keeping herself perched to the wall. Her senses at an all-time high. She saw a shadow move, her curtains moving; someone had come in through the window.

Mustering up her courage, she decided to confront said shadow.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t stab you for ruining my night.”

She shook her head and almost laughed. She hadn’t bothered to think of something more clever to say. But on the other hand, she was upset, she wanted answers and she wanted them _now_.

“Whoa there,” Franks voice, that soft deep baritone, cut through the shadow. Of all, it cut through her resolve. Karen’s eyes widened, her hold on the knife lessening but not entirely sure of letting it go.

He took a few steps and he was illuminated by the moonlight and she saw him. His hair was cut short, he was clean shaven, he had no bruises on his face. He was wearing dark clothes and a leather jacket. Her heart did the thing where it skipped a beat and the ache in her heart intensified.

“It’s me, Karen.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. The affect his voice still had on her, wasn’t at all lost on her. She noticed that his hands were raised, a sign that he was not a threat.

 _Why?_ She thought, _Why tonight? Why were her eyes watering?_ She thought angrily.

She cleared her throat, finding her voice.

Finding her resolve.

“What,” she cleared her throat, “what brings you here?”

It was never going to be simple, was it? Whatever connected them. Whatever pull kept bringing them together; the never-ending story of Frank & Karen. 

She hated how much she cared. She hated the profound effect he had on her, even after ten months.

_You don’t hate it as much as you’ve been craving for it._

He scratched his head, muttering something under his breath and looked at her, “I had to.”

She shook her head again, she didn’t want to believe his words but, of course, _of course_ , Frank was many things but a liar was not one of them. At least not to her, _no bullshit_. She knew that Frank had been lying when he told her he was choosing war. Deep down, he was scared. She knew then, she knew now. Didn’t mean she was prepared for his answer.

When she looked up he was near. Not exactly close but she could see him clearly now.

“You goin’ to keep holdin’ that?” he asked eyeing the knife.

“Still thinking about it.”

He nodded, “Guess I deserve that.”

Cutting straight to the chase she asked, “How long have you been following me?”

“Couple days.”

“How long have you been back?”

“Two weeks.”

She nodded, toying with her knife. Almost smirking when Frank’s eyes widened a bit.

“How long till you leave?”

She didn’t like how small her voice sounded when she asked. One thing she had learned a long time ago was not to get her hopes up, it tended to fuck things up. And here she was, hoping, longing.

“I,” he cleared his throat, “I ain’t leavin’.”

Her heart did that thing again, fluttering in her chest uncontrollably. She wished that response hadn’t brought her hopes up. This bastard. It was unfair. It was all so fucking unfair. She looked away, trying to compose herself but it was becoming increasingly difficult. She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t. When she looked at him thrice more Frank was standing in front of her. And it hit her, the smell that she had long ago learned to associate with him. One that at one point provided comfort. One she begrudgingly missed.

Gunpowder and earthy cologne.

_Fuck him, fuck him._

Karen flinched when Frank wiped away her tears and with his other hand, grabbed the knife from her hand. Letting her anger toward him blind her for a moment and the pain that he had intentionally subjected her to she slapped him. He staggered backward a bit surprised. Her breaths were coming in short spurts and suddenly the adrenaline left her, covering her face the tears began to fall. The dam had officially broken. It wasn’t heart-wrenching sobs either, she’d long ago had learned to control the way she cried.

It wasn’t all lost on her how she needed to maintain control of her life. Everything she did was methodical right from when she woke up from a shitty night of tossing and turning, till she was walking out the door to go to work. Everything was strategic and planned out. It kept her sane, it kept her from drifting to the things that were amiss.

_He is here now, might as well be honest with yourself, Karen. You cannot continue down this path. If you want to fix anything in your life; fix this._

* * *

_Frank_ :

He felt like shit.

He deserved the slap. He deserved that and so much more. He would have preferred for her yell at him and tell him to go fuck himself. He could take that, the anger; he wore his like a suit of armor. Instead of witnessing her falling apart because of him. He had caused the pain Karen carried inside. He hated himself for it even more. He pulled her close and even in the state she was in she was still stubborn as ever, fighting him, trying to keep a distance. She had every reason to not want him near, but he, he _had_ to make it right. He had chosen to walk away once a choice that had been made out of fear and his own stubborn nature.

He should have chosen her. 

Karen understood.

She was intelligent. She was fierce. The darkness didn’t faze her, she embraced it almost, like embracing an old friend. She saw _him_.

While the rest of the world saw the monster he was.

That’s why he was scared. Karen made him _feel_. She cut through The Punisher and let the man decide. It had always been that way.

The chaos. The war. Those would always reign free in his mind. But with her he was simply Frank Castle. A decorated soldier, an ex-marine, who had been dealt with a shitty hand in life that had cost him his family

He pulled her close and hugged her, wrapping his arms around her waist.The smell of lavender and something entirely hers filled his senses. Calming him. Soothing him.

He had missed her; Goddamnit, he _needed_ her. He would always need her. His thoughts quieted to mere whispers, when Karen wrapped her arms around his waist. She was still crying silently. Her body trembling slightly.

 _You goddamned idiot,_ he mentally berated himself.

He led them to her bed. He kept his arm around her and slowly her body stopped trembling, her tears subsided, reduced to quiet sniffles. Some time passed and when Karen took hold of his hand, he momentarily forgot how to breathe. The gentle gesture reminding him of when he was in the hospital, when the chaos abruptly distorted his reality. Lost in between the war and her calling out to him, her hand firm on his. Just like back then it provided him with a sense of comfort and relief that he desperately needed.

_Would it absolve him?_

The silence was deafening and he wanted to break it an apology on the tip of his tongue, one that if he said aloud would probably get him stabbed. He focused on her hand and keeping his breathing calm; giving Karen time to collect her thoughts. Fingers intertwined, she squeezed his hand, his heartbeat a staccato rhythm. When she cleared her throat and broke the silence, he almost thanked her.

* * *

_Karen & Frank:_

“I should hate you, Frank.”

He flinched unwillingly, her words feeling like a punch to the gut. A jagged knife to his heart twisting agonizingly slow. Hadn’t he wanted that? Hell, wished it were true at one point? To provide him with a false sense of security that it would simplify things? But that could never be the case, could it? Between them things would not, could not be that simple.

Karen kept her focus on his hand, not quite ready to look at those dark brown eyes. She knew that if she was going to be upfront she had to keep a small wall between them. Looking at him would break her resolve, she felt worn out, cried out but determined to not stall.

How could she hate someone that managed to become deep-seated into her skin? Who _saw_ her and hadn’t put a gun to her head? Who with a single glance could touch her and placate her tormented soul? Who occupied her thoughts every waking moment and when she scarcely slept? How simple would it be if she could pretend Frank never existed, but she couldn’t do that. To deny him was to deny a part of herself that was his.

_Was loving someone always this difficult? Do you still want to hold on or let go?_

He cleared his throat, running his free hand on his thigh, a nervous tick of his. How could she ever have thought that she could move on, when all she wanted and needed was next to her? She was going through her own war, to let him go and tell him to go fuck himself or wrap her arms around him and kiss him and take his breath away.

Karen was listening to her heart because there was no arguing when the heart chose, it wanted what it wanted and rarely listened to reason.

_Absolve him, Karen._

“I, I can’t. I could never,” she began after a momentary silence, “After tonight, seeing you again.” She took a deep breath and looked at him, his head was downcast, “I missed you, Frank.”

He looked up at her and his eyes were glassy, piercing through her soul. She allowed herself to get lost in his gaze and for the first time, he wasn’t holding back. She couldn’t look away, she didn’t want to. With her free hand she caressed his cheek, smiling when he broke eye contact to bury himself in her palm, forgetting how to breathe when he kissed her wrist. Her heart clenched, she needed him so much it was almost painful.

She couldn’t bear the thought of him walking out the door and out of her life. It would be the nail to her coffin, sealing her fate. Frank would never come back.

“I forgive you, Frank.”

He sucked in a breath regaining his composure. Their foreheads touched as he leaned into her and breathed her in once again. Karen’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. He pulled her to his lap, needing to feel her close. She heard him muttering to himself and wrapped her arms around him when she realized Frank was saying her name over and over again.

“I ain’t leavin’ you again.”

“I sure hope not.”

He caressed her cheek, “I was goddamned stupid,” he began voice hoarse, “I let my fears get the best of me. To think I thought of lettin’ you go in the first place.”

“Frank, look at me,” she asked gently. She smiled at him when he looked at her, “We can spend an eternity talking about everything that almost went wrong. Listing out the what ifs, what was done, what wasn’t. What matters is now.”

She was diving head first and asked him the question that could make or break them, “If you want to try? I want to try too.”

He smiled, “You sure you don’t want to think about it?”

“I was sure then. I am sure now, there’s nothing to think about, I want this. I want us.”

Karen would never cease to amaze him, he nodded, “Okay,” he whispered, his heart thundering in his chest, “I want you too.”

She hugged him and he wrapped his arms around her, his savior, his anchor. How could he not love her? After everything they’ve been through.

He knew that when his feelings started to change it is when he made the impulsive decision to push Karen away knowing that he was being a coward. Curtis saw right through his bullshit when he explained himself about needing to wage war. So had Karen when he had told her he was choosing war — she’d known it was coming from a place of fear. Instead of calling him out on it she had swallowed her feelings, schooled her features neutral, nodding her head agreeing with him before walking out the hospital with her heart on her sleeve.

For a long time he could not wrap his head around the fact that Karen wanted him.

The man and The Punisher.

Broken and damaged.

She wasn’t trying to fix him, perhaps in the beginning when she made him remember his family. When she crossed the red tape and had agreed to defend him vehemently. As the years passed, she accepted Frank Castle as she begrudgingly learned to accept The Punisher because she worried sick about him. She cared.

_How long has it been since you allowed yourself to be cared for, Castle?_

He released her, caressing her cheek again, he leaned in and kissed her in the forehead, “I’m yours, sweetheart.”


End file.
